Oh, Merciful Hunter
by Akallas von Aerok
Summary: Magical Britain is in ruins. The Second Blood Crusade has left everyone in disarray. Amidst all this, the Order of Phoenix pulls off their final -and only- plan. There is no turning back.
1. What Beast Needs Hunting?

**Well, there are many a universes out there where Harry is either summoned to, away, in, out, and a whole bunch of stuff happens to him!**

 **This story happens to be one about Harry(s) being summoned back after being summoned out.**

 **I hope you enjoy this story.**

 **Of Summoning Harry(s)**

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**  
 _ **What Beast Needs Hunting?**_

Dumbledore and his Order of Phoenix were tired.

But they were not defeated.

It had been five years since the Dark Lord resurrected from his defeat against the Boy-Who-Lived...

Who was also the Boy-Who-Disappeared.

Around a dozen years ago or so, young Harry Potter disappeared from on the way from his school to his relative's home. There have been searches for the young boy, but no one even came up with a reliable lead.

Eventually, the Boy-Who-Lived(Disappeared) was branded a missing child.

Tonight, though, the Order of Phoenix had other plans.

A year into the war, Dumbledore confessed that there had been a prophecy regarding Harry and Voldemort. That only Harry could defeat the Dark Lord.

Then he brought out the ritual to summon Harry from wherever he may be.

Thankfully, the ritual had a "pre-determination" part to it so that there wouldn't be miscalculations.

A single piece of Harry's hair was used to determine how much power would be needed.

Dumbledore fainted when it was discovered that Harry wasn't even on the planet anymore.

To bring Harry back, they needed Hogsmead's worth of magic... multiplied by a hundred, and that was a lot. To that end, the Order of Phoenix had been gathering materials for years on end. They gathered the most magic-saturationed reagents and resources, squeezing the magic out of them, and turning them into _liquid magic_.

It was magic in its most dense and purest form. It was, however, also very, very volatile. It was, as Arthur Weasley put it, magical equivalent of a mundane nuclear plant.

Most of the order members didn't quite understand the reference, but the muggleborns were horrified.

This then led to the horrific retelling of what exactly the mundanes have been doing during and after World War II.

Needless to say, every order member had a new reason to keep magicals away from mundanes, not the other way around.

After four years of desperate and hard work, they had done it.

In the Black Family Ritual Room within Grimmauld Place, the most proficient of ritualists of the Order of Phoenix stood around in a circle with a liter cup in the center of an elaborate and frankly gibberish ritual circle.

The liter cup held a quarter of a liter of liquid magic. This was the effort of blood and sweat of nearly two dozen wizards and witches.

Last time such a quantity of liquid magic was seen was in the construction of Azkaban.

"To the magic of Gaia," Dumbledore began the incantations of the ritual. "We desire the return of one of our own," he said as he held his hand up and then turned it down, allowing a single hair to fall down.

Everyone in the ritual room watched in anticipation as the hair slowly fell down.

Time slowed down for everyone.

In Dumbledore's mind, he was desperately hoping for a warrior-wizard, Merlin Reborn, to come and save them. Perhaps in his prime, Dumbledore would have faced off Riddle like he had done so with Grindlewald, but he was no longer that fiesty, women-orgy-bedding, and nearly sadistic man. He had grown weary, tired, weak, and limp.

Oh, how he _hated_ having to rely on others for what was his job to defend Magical Britain...!

McGonagall was the only other Hogwarts (current) staff within the ritual room. She too was thinking along similar lines. After all, was Riddle not the product and folly of her generation? WAs it not her generation's duty to put a stop to this either? It left her mouth a bitter taste to rely on summoning who could be a very happy to a war torn nation.

Snape didn't really care for Potter. Snape had been a bitter man for a long time, and orders from either side of the war -for he was spying for both- was not going to change his bitterness. Perhaps seeing the next generation of Potter suffer a little for his father's sin would be cathartic.

Slughorn was the most depressed of the lot. He may as well been the cause of latest war. After all, had he not spoken, would Riddle have lived through his first war?

Amelia Bones had survived Voldemort's attempt to assassinate her and her nephew, but she had found no allies in the Ministry or the DMLE. So, she left. And here she stood among other "Greats."

The Great was a title given to those exemplary of their generation for whatever reason.

Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard seen since Merlin.

McGonagall was the closest thing the entire wizarding world had to Dumbledore in Transfiguration and Battle Transfiguration.

Snape was the "King" of the potion communities; his word held more sway than Dumbledore among the reclusive masters of the aqueous magic.

And Slughorn? He was the one who showed the world these Greats. He shined them for the world to see and awe. A master of societal partnership.

And herself? A prodigy of the Defense Magics, whether they be Battle Transfiguration, potions, Dark Arts, or Body Reinforcement.

She felt small here. Her achievement was small compared to others in this ritual room.

But even so, her thoughts were also on Harry Potter.

James Potter had been one her junior partners and an acquaintance, so she wondered how this new Lord Potter would compare to the previous generations.

The ritual room lit up as the ritual circle lit up.

To everyone's surprise, the words and gibberish of the ritual circle ... began to _move_.

The light shown at first in blue, then it changed to gold.

Everyone's thoughts turned optimistic.

Gold was the color of majesty. Of purity.

Of-

 _Red_.

Everything in the room turned red. The stones of the room quivered in place. Thick, oozing, and metallic liquid seemed out from the cracks of ceiling, floor, and walls.

Everyone panicked.

The red ooze, which may have been blood from the smell and stickiness, pooled at the center of the room even as the ritualists tried to stop it.

All of the ritualists knew... They Fucked Up. Capital "They Fucked Up."

Red was the color of pain, of darkness given form. It was life, but it was the worst aspect of life; pain, fragility, and unconsciousness were the domains of the red.

There was a sudden boom within the room as everyone was tossed to the walls, stuck to the granite the walls were made up of by the pressure being exuded from the center of the ritual.

And a hand shot out.

Amelia couldn't help the scream.

The hand was not of the living nor of the dead. It was gruesome and its seven fingers were not of human origin.

The forearm that followed was no better. Skeletal yet not. Fleshy yet hard. Thin yet pulsing.

Then the tentacles followed.

And soon, without their word or command, the room enlarged.

And the being that they summoned dragged itself out of the puddle of red liquid - _blood_ \- and they stared in horror.

They didn't summon Harry. There must've been some kind of error with the ritual circle.

The nine meter towering creature before them made out of tentacles, bones, blood, eyes, and hands was _not a human_.

"Merlin have mercy on our souls," Dumbledore muttered.

He had finally done it.

He had done something that not even Grindlewald and Riddle dared to do.

Summoning an eldritch being.

As the pressure left them all and they fell down to the floor, Dumbledore whipped out his Elder Wand, intending to drag this beast down to the depths of hell even if it took him his life. "Ru-!"

 **You've called.**

Everyone froze.

It looked around when no one answered.

 **Speak. You've called me. I do not wait for long.**

"W-" Slughorn, the most guilt-tripped of them all, was the courageous first to speak. "W-We've summoned a Harry Potter!"

The being's eyes, nearly a hundred of them adorned throughout its body, shifted and stared at Slughorn.

 **And I've come.**

"Y-You're Harry?!"

The eyes shifted to Dumbledore, whose pale shocked face was a sight to behold had everyone else not been wearing similar expressions.

 **Perhaps when I was a little mortal. As of recent times, I am called by the mortals as Yomshara, the Merciful Hunter.**

In Dumbledore's mind, the title was calming ... to a degree.

"We need your help!"

There was a pause before the being before them froze, shifted, and evaporated. As it evaporated, it left behind a thick smoke that dispersed on its own as if the ritual room was heavily vented.

And when the smoke was gone, a triconed man was all that was left of the eldritch being.

He tipped his hat so that his bright green eyes were showing, and through his face mask, he asked a question.

"What beast needs hunting? For Harry has joined the Hunt."

* * *

 **What do you all think about this one? Review, pm, tell others. Give me a response.**


	2. When the Worst Happens

**Chatper 2:**  
 **When the Worst Happens**

* * *

"What happened?"

Amelia snapped out of her daze and look at her nephew.

Samuel Bones was a sturdy teenager- no, man. Ever since the beginning of the war, he had been pushing himself to become the best medic there was. While he was still far from being called the greatest witch-doctor of Great Britain, he certainly was famous on all sides of war as a miracle hand, despite the fact that he had been deprived of many resources like St. Mungo's archives.

Unlike her nephew, she was on the decline. Ever since she left the Ministry and the DMLE, her body was beginning to fail her. Perhaps it was the numerous curses she took in battles and their leftover taint finally showing up or some other reason. It was a minuscule thing that she had noticed only lately, but it was still something she had felt and seen in herself.

She smiled for her nephew. "Nothing much, Sam," she replied. "It has been a long day."

He nodded carefully. "What happened?"

Unlike the Weasleys and the Hogwarts staff, Amelia and Samuel did not hide the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix or their friends from each other. They were the last of the Bones, after all. Bones stick close together.

"... The ritual was successful, but Harry wasn't who we thought it would be."

"How so?"

Amelia allowed a pause for herself before she explained and leaned back into her armchair. "We were expecting a teenager, because he should be of such age. We were hoping for a warrior wizard, because that's who we needed. Instead of either of those, we got a demon."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. A demon? Wasn't that a bit of a harsh statement? "Murderer?"

She shook her head. "No. A real demon. His real form is nightmarish. I know I was screaming my head off when I first saw him."

"... Did he explain why he looked like that?"

She sighed. "He claims to not be a man."

* * *

"But what are you?"

Dumbledore really couldn't help his curiosity. He was a scholar at heart, and the chance to meet an eldritch being, no matter who it was before, was something he had wished quietly in a corner of his heart. To know even the barest of facts of the eldritch planes of existence was a wish he hid from all. After all, no sane wizard or witch would call upon an eldritch being.

No, no, no. Of course not! Why would they? It would mean the end of their world.

'But the end of the world came to us first, didn't it?' Dumbledore thought to himself.

Harry had agreed to fight for them, but reserved the right to demand specific things. He would not say what they were, but agreed to discuss them with their leader, which was Dumbledore himself, in private. To do so, Dumbledore and Harry were given a private room with silence charms and runes to prevent others from hearing in.

Harry blinked. It was hard to tell his expression because everything above his eyebrow was covered by a tricone hat and everything below his eyes was covered by a facemask. The only expression the ritualists could tell was that of the body language, and it told them all that he was relaxed.

Dumbledore thought it funny.

Because despite facing the greatest that the world had to offer, this ... thing was relaxed as if they held no threat to it at all.

'Considering what it is, though, I'm starting to doubt our threat to it as well,' he thought to himself. 'And let's be honest to myself. I can't view Harry was a person after ... seeing that.'

"A Great One," Harry finally responded after a few moments. "Humans do not have the necessary vocal nor hearing structure to say or hear what we call ourselves."

"So there are more of you?"

He nodded. "Many, but we are all different."

"Different how?"

"Everything."

"What does that mean?"

Harry paused again. "Everything from our appearance to our powers and genetics structures differ. Once you ascend as we have, you are no longer bound by the rigid laws of this plane of existence," he replied. "Instead, we are now bound by the laws of our realms."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at this revelations. "Each of your kind have their own realms?"

"No. We make them."

"And?"

"We bring people in."

"... Is that what you wish to do?" he asked. "Do you wish to bring people from here to your realm?"

"A few perhaps."

"...You are a man of few words, Mr. Potter. Usually, someone of your status would speak much about their accomplishments."

"I don't see much merit in that."

"Neither do I, but most humans do."

"... Foolish."

"If you get those people you intend to move to agree with you ... without compulsion, then I shall not oppose you."

Harry nodded as he stood up from the chair he sat. "When your battle starts, call me with this," Harry said as he pulled out a silver bell from within his sleeve. "Then good day."

And he was gone.

He was there when he was standing up, and gone when he had left it.

* * *

Ron, Hermione, and Neville, the Golden Trio of Hogwarts, were worried.

They had been there when the ritualists left the ritual room, and saw the ritualists talking to _someone invisible_.

Then Dumbledore was going to a private meeting with that invisible person, and former head of the DMLE looked like she was going to pass out from sheer shock.

...

No, no, she just passed out in the middle of her retelling.

When Samuel rejoined them, they were quick to delve into their discussion.

"So who is this guy?"

"Not human, apparently," Samuel grunted.

The Golden Trio stared at Sam.

"Not human?" Hermione asked. "It's not ... a demon, is it?"

From what little information that Hogwarts provided its students on the subjects, demons and eldritch beings were the very last thing any wizard or witch should ever consider.

The last time demons were summoned was at the end of the Roman Empire, where it was the demons and eldritch beings that roamed free all over the empire, not some tribes, because they were not stupid as the proud Roman wizards and witches who thought they could take on ascended creatures.

Because the truth that wizards and witches later realized was that "summoning" was an art of _forcing_ a being to either descend or ascend. It was because of this that one can never summon a creature they can see and touch, because they are in the same plane of existence.

But demons, gods, beasts, and demons that are not of their dimension?

Oh yes.

Oh yes, they can.

Now, the last bit about beast was something only the Golden Trio and few others knew because of one person.

Luna.

What Luna saw through her eyes was another dimension.

Against their better logic, their curiosity had overturned their decision, and they summoned a tiny creature.

A tiny creature about the size of a child's fist by the name of Wrackspurt, which now lived in Luna's hair.

Still, they learned and knew that there were worse things than Wrackspurts out there, just itching to grab a hold of their plane of existence.

This thing that their elders had summoned?

It had to be either a demon or an eldritch being.

Each had pros and cons.

Demons were powerful and were fair dealers, but they were mischievous and always found loopholes to make their summoner's life miserable. This was a proven fact as history has shown.

Eldritch beings were often disinterested to their summoners. This was both pro and a con, because this meant that there was a chance to get the eldritch summon to help the summoner with enough convincing, but if the eldritch being decided the summoner was annoying...

Well, eldritch beings stomp on demons any day. Guess what they could do to their mortal summoners?

"It's probably an eldritch being," Sam spoke up.

The Golden Trio turned to him. "I agree," Hermione added.

"Why?" Ron asked. "It could be a demon fooling everyone."

"Roman manuscripts say that all demons want to establish a contract on the spot that they are summoned to, but we just saw the summon walk out," Hermione explained. "On top of that, demons are known to ... seduce everyone, so it wouldn't come invisible when it excited the ritual room."

"That or everyone went bonkers in there," Ron scoffed.

Neville had yet to say anything. He saw how Sam and Mione came to such conclusion, but at the same time, he could understand why Ron had such a thing.

Ron was ... not the most eloquent of individual, but this did not mean that he wasn't smart. Oh no, a dumb person would not be able to become the Wizarding Chess Champion at the age of 14. No. Neville knew that Ron was simply not good with words because he never bothered to learn them to express himself fully, which is why he would call everyone "bonkers" rather than saying that they might've been fooled.

Essentially the same thing from Ron's perspective, but it would make Ron look like a rude person from the view of others.

Then the door creaked open, and everyone's head turned to the small office attached the living room of the Grimmauld's Place, for everyone had been at the living room, waiting for the "decision."

Dumbledore appeared by himself. The invisible guest was still invisible.

"It seems that we have come to an agreement," he stated cheerfully. "But alas, he has left. I do not know where or why, though."

'So ... what now?' Neville thought.

"So with our summon's deal sealed, we shall move onto other matters, mainly regarding Death Eater activities in magical locations..."

* * *

Yomshara returned to the his Nightmare and pondered.

It had been eons since he had been called Harry Potter, but then, the name was that of a human child who barely knew what was right or wrong. It was the name of the distant past that had little recognition. He only remembered it because his only other Ascended friend called him that.

He scratched his head even as his form shifted back into his comfortable albeit grotesque true self. He stretched his tentacles out and shifted all of his eyeballs.

"You've returned."

Yomshara stopped his pondering and walking and looked to his left, where a tiny voice had spoken up.

It was a human girl. She was youngest of his Nightmare's inhabitants.

She grabbed the nearest tendril of his and tugged playfully.

"Where did you go this time?" she asked him as they slowly began their journey to the center of his Nightmare.

 **A place that claims to be my home.**

"But your home is here with us!" she pouted.

 **They do not know that. They are tired.**

She cutely tilted her head. "Then they should sleep. Everyone knows they should sleep when they're tired."

After a moment, Yomshara laughed, but without a mouth or a nose, it was the squiggling of the eyeballs, creaking of bones, and small flails of the tentacles that gave off any noise.

 **Where is your mother?**

"She's taking care of the patients again," the little girl pouted again.

 **She does tend to focus on her patients more than her family... Unless you're sick. Then the Nightmare forbid me, she's all over you.**

She grinned. "And she makes the best stew when I'm sick!"

There was a pause before Yomshara hefted her up. **Let's go find mommy.**

"She's my mommy!"

So they walked out from the woods of Yomshara's Nightmare into a city floating in the sky.

* * *

It's been weeks since the summoning, and the fighters of the Order of Phoenix were getting restless.

Mere days ago, they had received information that Hogwarts was going to be under siege soon. In response, the Order had moved its entire base and fighters within Hogwarts, using Fidelius to hide the fighters in one part of the school. This managed to fool the Death Eater sympathizers within Hogwarts into telling their boss that Hogwarts was lightly defended...

When, in truth, there were more than a hundred wizards and witches, half of them students, ready to fight to the death in their school's defense.

On November 14th, 1998, the Death Eaters and their Lord Voldemort descended upon Hogwarts.

Dumbledore watched with grief as battle approached Hogwarts.

The Death Eaters had already cast anti-floo, anti-portkey, and anti-apparition wards.

They meant to massacre the supposedly defenseless students.

He wondered how their society had taken such a steep turn.

He sighed as he pulled out the silver bell Harry had given him.

The others around him stared at it, and realized exactly what it was for.

They also saw Dumbledore hesitate. They didn't blame him, though, for his hesitance. After all, Harry- or Yomshara- was a being of unknown intent and power. Would he be their savior or their doom? He had agreed to fight for them, but what exactly would that involve.

But the Worst had Happened, and they had little choice.

So Dumbledore...

As he grieved over those who would die by the hands of the eldritch beast...

Rang the Bell.


	3. Where is this?

**Chapter 3:**  
 **Where is this?**

* * *

As Voldemort led his army towards Hogwarts, the last barrier between him, his regime, and the unification of Magical Britain, he couldn't help but feel _happy_.

After all, once this battle was over, he would be the ultimate ruler of Britain.

...

Just a step away from ridding this world of its traditions.

Just another step until he succeeded in wiping the so-called purity to establish a new haven.

A new empire.

An empire that would carry his name forevermore...

He saw Dumbledore and boasted about how he would stand over the man's corpse by the end of tonight.

...

Then there was a ringing of a tiny bell.

* * *

When Dumbledore rang the bell, there was pause.

This pause came not from the enemy who feared a tiny bell. How could they? They were also very far away.

No, this pause came from those around him.

The tiny tinkle of the bell was a long stretched tone that was beyond physical means. It resonated from within the bell. Tiny yet strong.

Dumbledore himself, however, could feel the world swirl.

Agitated by the mere tinkle of this silver bell that let off a light like a tiny torch.

A dim silver light ... that pointed.

As if it was a living thing, Dumbledore saw the light of the bell reach out, and then disappear. It didn't disappear like those of the lighthouse or the block of a wall.

It just ... cut off?

He was not prepared for what happened next.

With a gut wrenching shriek, something tore through the space between Voldemort's army and Hogwarts. Many screamed in fight as a living terror made itself present.

Its body was of ashen gray, giving off no more light than it received. It was gangly and tall. It should have been human. Everyone saw to that on the two broken halves of skull that hung loosely on its neck, but instead of a human head, there sat a "comb" of skeletal vines that held back a tide of numerous eyes from falling out.

"Dumbledore, you monster!" Voldemort declared. "You _dare_ summon a demon?!"

Everyone turned to him, and he couldn't help but feel his heart wrench when he saw the betrayed face of those not in the know.

"No," he stated back simply. "If I had summoned a demon, you would be dead where you stand and I would be gone as if I had never existed, because that is exactly what I would traded for my soul."

The answer came quietly but firmly. With the help of the pre-casted Sonorous charm, it was heard by everyone.

There was another tear in space as more creatures like it but far different pulled themselves out of nothingness and to this world.

"No," Dumbledore stated again. "I've called upon Yomshara."

Order members looked at him in confusion. Yomshara was the name that Harry Potter called himself as. Why not just say 'Harry Potter' was called?

"A named being," Voldemort roared. "You summoned a _god?!_ Your foolishness knows no bounds, headmaster! You've doomed Great Britain!"

"No," Dumbledore stated again simply but for the final time. "I've only doomed a dozen. That was all it wanted anyway."

Voldemort opened his mouth to sound a retreat. He was not insane enough to declare war on a god, not if he could help it.

But the eldritch god had done so in his place.

What they had not noticed was that with their attention caught in the front with the appearance of elderitch beasts, they had not noticed that there were other appearances.

Like right next to the headmaster.

Like to their side and behind.

Like among them.

They moved silently and without presence. For many of their gawdy fashion sense, they were non-existent to the eyes of the wizards and witches who were too enraptured with the beasts and the two lords of Britain.

It was Voldemort who saw them first.

He saw a figure walked up to where the Headmaster stood on the astronomy tower. A figure not wearing robes but leather trench coat, a leather freebooter, and a facemask. A image so _off_ from the fabric robed wizards and witches.

Then the first scream rung out.

* * *

He used to be called Father Gascoigne.

He came to Yharnam to preach against the Heresy of the "Healing Church." Worship of the cthunic gods was not only against the law, but also heretical. He wanted to save souls of Yharnam from both physical damnation -when, not if, decides to run the city down for heresy- and spiritual damnation -when they die without believing in the Lord.

But the scourge of the Beasts demanded that he, a former military commander, hunt them down. So when the calls for Hunters to rise up against the Beasts were rung throughout the city of Yharnam, he was one of the first to volunteer.

After a single patrol, he met one of the damned Beasts of Yharnam. A werewolf that stood twice as he was tall.

He did not hesitate. He struck down the werewolf with the waraxe he had inherited from his father. It was messy, but it was a quick kill; the weight of the axe and the power of his strength saw to that.

But it didn't end there.

Night after night, he roamed the darkened streets of the city. The number of fellow hunters grew smaller and smaller, and in some cases, he had to put them down too.

...

It was terrible.

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it was terrible. He hated it, but he continued onward because he had to.

In his desire to save Yharnam, he had brought his family with him, but in doing so, had doomed them to surviving the nights with the Beasts.

Unfortunately, his nation had quarantined the city a week after the Fire of Old Yharnam. Everyone who so much as stepped out of the city was killed, and their corpse was burned to purify them of their sins for believing in the heretical gods who brought down the Beast Scourge upon Yharnam.

With no way out, he was determined to rid Yharnam of all heretics and Beasts; there was no other way.

But...

By the end of the first month, it was too late for him.

Bloodlust had gotten to him. Only Henryk, his father-in-law, was able to shake him out of it in the battle.

He too had become a Beast. He hadn't changed his appearance, but the signs were there.

He grieved, but his family cheered him on.

... He could never thank them enough.

 _But that damned Hunter got them killed_.

His lights, his stars, his _everything_.

Killed.

It was just as they say...

The path to hell is paved with good intentions.

He lost his mind and then his body.

The Good Hunter cried as he struck him down.

But ...

His journey was not at its end, for what saved him was not his God. No. Instead of eternal bliss, he was called to Yomshara, the home of the Merciful Hunter.

He had been shocked.

The Merciful Hunter. He was a comrade of his, once. He slew scores of beasts on his own, but then, after a while, he disappeared.

He mourned for him, believing that the man had fallen in battle, and his remains stripped away by the beasts he failed to kill.

But there he stood. The Merciful Hunter ... and his family.

He did not apologize for taking him away from his eternal peace with God, but it didn't matter much in the end. If he died in Yomshara, he would go to the Father anyway.

But until then, he was sworn to the Merciful Hunter. The Great One was now his liege til release, and tonight, his job was to cut down these savages.

As he withdrew his axe from the grasp of the Messengers, he briefly kissed the tiny, golden cross hanging under his neck.

'May God have mercy on their souls.'

With that...

He swung.

* * *

Father Gascoigne's axe ripped through a Death Eater with the ease of a hot butter knife through butter. The man simply gurgled before he crumpled over, dead.

But the man was not the only one.

As Father Gascoigne's axe withdrew to strike at another, another Death Eater fell. This witch fell to a pair of blades that grabbed at her neck like crab's pincers and sliced them right off her body.

And when the Death Eaters turned to its wielder, they saw a crow instead of a man.

"MUGGLE FIGHTERS AMONG US!" someone shouted.

Chaos erupted, but the attackers were swift and scarce.

Spells flung, but was deflected and dodged with ease.

The Hunters joined the Hunt, and their march was unstoppable.

* * *

Dumbledore heard the first scream, but he saw the flashes of steels before the screams.

He dipped his head just as the scream reached him.

"What's happening down there?!" Kingsley quickly demanded to those around him. With Dumbledore looking to be out of commission and with no action between the visible demonc creatures between them and Voldemort, he took over control of the Order.

"Harry has struck," the headmaster replied quietly.

"But I don't see him-"

To their horror -and awe-, a creature rose up from within the ranks of the Death Eaters.

"A werewolf-?!" someone shouted.

Then they shut up in shock when the werewolf howled and became even _bigger_.

And grew and grew...

Until it was three stories tall.

It unleashed a roar. It was so loud that the closest Death Eaters fainted on the spot. Then it swung its arms.

Relentless was the word for it.

It came faster than wizards and witches could hope to move without magic. It struck without mercy and tore through men and women alike.

When the Death Eaters' attention as a whole turned to the beasts among them, the eldritch beasts in front of them struck.

They struck without preamble.

They ran forward with their arms stretched out. Their arms and fingers twisted into tentacles, wringing to grasp the nearest Death Eaters.

Such was the kind of chaos that struck them.

The defenders of Hogwarts stared in horror as slowly but surely, the Death Eaters were killed -and in some cases, eaten alive.


	4. How it Ends

**Chapter 4:**  
 **How it Ends**

Voldemort slew another one of the eldritch beasts with a Avada Kedavra to the chest, causing it to implode.

These creatures were beyond frustrating! Even by magical standards, they ignored several laws of nature and magic. They walked through people _while_ grabbing their innard on the way out. In the same attack, they would also leave a part of themselves behind. These parts would then grow into another one of them.

A disgusting way to reproduce, Voldemort decided. But it was effective at not only growing their number but causing fear, which these creatures seem to seek not unlike how a dementor seeks a happy person.

He looked around.

His army was devastated, and he knew that this was where his regime was going to end. The survivors of this battle from both sides would spread the word that Dumbledore had a pet eldritch beast under his control, whether this was true or not Voldemort did not know. The word will spread, regardless of facts, and it will dissuade almost all of his followers.

It was his end.

He wanted to roar and kill, but there was nothing around him.

Just more of those monsters.

In a feat only Dumbledore could match, he started a chain sequence of spell fire. Without speaking or chanting, he fired off a flurry of spells that struck and killed the monsters all around him. The few Death Eaters who had lived watched in awe for a second before they too were forced to defend themselves from the monsters.

But even Voldemort could not withstand the unending onslaught.

In the end, he too fell, and his remains were devoured by the monsters.

With the threat gone, the Hunters under Yomshara's call all gave a bow to their spectators before they disappeared, turning into mist.

The beasts disappeared as well.

And all that was left was the single lone Hunter standing by Dumbledore as the dawn broke over the horizon.

"... What will you do now?" Yomshara asked Dumbledore.

The man looked at Ha- no, Yomshara- and smiled sadly. "There is still a country for me and the others to correct."

Yomshara nodded once. "Place the bell at the entrance of this school with a strict written warning for all to wish to ring the bell: you may not return."

With that, he too disappeared.

* * *

Life moved on. People cheered, people raged, and people argued, but at the end of the day, Voldemort was gone along with vast majority of the fanatical Pureblood supremacists.

Dumbledore remained as headmaster of Hogwarts and left the political and socail restructuring to the new generations who would be leaving out of Hogwarts.

Life went on.

People began to forget about the eldritch horror that visited the Battle of Hogwarts, because their mind didn't want to admit it.

But every then and now ...

Someone decided to ring the bell hung at the entrance of Hogwarts castle.

They would all disappear with a swirl of white mist.

Most wouldn't return, but some would. Those who returned, dubbed by the public as "the Survivors," were changed people. After too many people simply didn't return, it was deemed that the bell was a danger to wizarding world.

They tried to remove it, but no one could. Hell, they couldn't even encase it in a glass box so no one could ring it. Thsoe who tried were also taken away by the bell.

And so the legend of Yomshara continued through these curious folks who dared to ring the bell.

* * *

 **So ends the first part of this series. I know, this chapter was short, and it was meant to be.**


	5. ACT II: The Beast

**Act II**  
 **Scene I**

 **The First Beast of Yomshara**  
(Familiar of Zero x Bloodborne)

WARNING + DISCLAIMER: AU and as such, no canon plot. I do not own any of the characters from Bloodborne, Harry Potter, and Familiar of Zero, but I do own whatever is not in canon of those three mentioned fictions.

* * *

Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière was determined.

Whatever they may say about her skills at magic, she was a determined person.

She was the most knowledgeable student because she was determined.

She was the most learned student because she was determined.

She was covered in burn marks because she was determined.

She was painted with tear marks more often than not before bed because she was determined.

She was suffering from nightmares because she was determined.

Her family knew this too. Outside of her mother, all of her family supported her, regardless of her ability (some silently while others not so silently). They saw how determined she was. How she studied and practiced to the point of hurting herself. They couldn't stop her, so they supported her.

And this was the moment that she was going to prove to everyone that her determination had not been for naught. She had studied day and night to get this right.

The Spring Summoning Ritual was a magic that required no magical input from her, only her soul signature. It was a ritual system that derived its workings from the magic of the surrounding; if there was magic in the environment, then it would work. No matter how much of a failure of a mage or how powerful, it worked. There has been not a single instance of the ritual _failing_. There were records of mages not getting the familiar they wanted, but that was personal bias.

She knew what she wanted: ANYTHING but FAILURE.

Quite simple and guaranteed to succeed.

So she spoke up.

"I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar...!" she shouted with her heart dripping from those words.

The ritual lit up in green.

And she waited.

* * *

Yomshara's Nightmare.

Compared to those created by its kin, it was a fantastical place that was often equated to paradise by the newcomers.

Whereas the Nightmare Realms of Yomshara's kin were filled with beasts, gloomy sky, blood, and rocks, Yomshara's Nightmare was filled with floating mountains, enchanting forests, and kind denizens.

So kind and so luring that no one wanted to leave.

So disorienting that the newcomers do not notice the danger lurking in the sky, the forest, and the waters.

One such danger was the Lord of the Forest.

It was a towering beast. A mouth shaped like a vicious reptile, body and limbs of man, and a tail of a scaled dragon. It stood nearly as tall as the trees. It was his most favored form; it was intimidating and sent a clear message that no, he was not a human, even if he had once been a human. Yes, his jaw was meant to sever bodies in half with its sharp teeth.

But despite its beastly and unholy appearance, it was a guardian of the forest. It tested the newcomers so that only the "worthy" lived to leave the forest. It made sure that scum unwilling to change their malevolent ways stayed in the forest to become the new monsters and the fertilizer.

And like all lords, he had a throne, a court, and an heir.

His heir was not of his body and blood, but it mattered not. His heir was the most upstanding beast of the forest. If he, the Lord of the Forest, was a silent judge, the forest and its denizens saw his heir as the shining knight, the ideal ruler, and the most powerful being in the forest.

"-wing my fate, summon a familiar...!"

It woke up, and found a green portal in front of it.

The magic of the portal contacted him gently, and gave him three notices.

 _Most compatible. A girl in need. A new adventure._

It blinked.

The Lord of the Forest thought. His first impression was ... why not? He was bored as hell, and there haven't been a lot of newcomers lately. Hell, most of those who did come didn't even make it to him because the hidden beasts of the forests killed them too fast.

Yomshara, or as some of the newcomers and now permanent residents were calling the god, Lord Potter, was the ultimate ruler of the realm. The god determined whether a beast or man could leave. And considering that the portal itself had just opened up in front of him, the Lord of the Forest could at least guess that the God of the Realm wasn't adverse to his retirement.

"Why not!" he laughed to himself. "My heir can always take over, and my death will bring me back to the Nightmare!"

So the beast that was once a man known as Saitou entered the portal as it changed to it most ... surprising form. A form inspired by the minds of the more free thinking newcomers.

"A new adventure," it cackled. "How exciting."

It reached forth just as it had a passing deja vu.

"He" had done something similar to this... before his life as the Lord of the Forest.

"...What should I call myself now?" it asked itself before it went through the portal. "Hmm... How about Azatheim? Sounds arrogant and mysterious..."

* * *

A green portal opened up, and Louise beamed.

She had done it. Her familiar was coming through!

What kind of a creature would her familiar be? Would it be a cute little bunny? A bear? A dragon?! How about a-?

She shook her head.

No, no, no. She should be happy with anything that she got. Her first magic that didn't botch up! Even the mighty 'Zero' cannot mess up this ritual!

She shouted in joy, throwing her arms above her head.

It cut off short as she saw exactly _who_ came out of the portal.

Or rather what.

It was tall. Really, _really_ tall. It was covered from head to toe in carapace and had at least half a dozen arms. Each of those arms had spiked carapace armor and instead of hands, there were bladed hooks. It had a human face. Or rather, faces. There were at least three faces she could see on its head, but considering that she saw at least four mouths, there had to be more where she couldn't see.

It walked on double jointed quadruple legs that formed a quadropod.

" **WHO HAS SUMMONED THE GREAT AZATHEIM**?!"

...

She had fucking botched the ritual.


End file.
